Late Night Visit
by MarieLorenzana
Summary: "Mr. Malfoy?" Harry is shocked by his nighttime visitor.


There was one body alive, but asleep in the boys dormitory of the Gryffindor Tower that night. Only one, because it was a night as premature as a warm death. And for one who had been victim of so much tragedy of late, Harry Potter's comatose demeanor showed no signs of the distress which tugged at his heart, and infected his dreams of late. He had traipsed up to the dormitory rather early by anyone's standards, while Gryffindor and Slytherin were still engaged in a heady game of Quidditch, that had lasted from midday. After seeing enough cheeky grins from Ron atop his gleaming Cleansweep, Harry had taken off his own tired smile, superficial as it was, and turned his head from the whizzing broomsticks and cheering, zealous crowd, whose energy had not waned since the beginning of the match. Wearing a severe headache like a heavy crown, weighted down by regal pain, he rubbed his head impatiently on his way back to the castle.  
  
Now he lie in a deep, but troubled slumber. It was not a slumber laced with dreams, but rather one that was a glass begging to be shattered. Remnants of dark make up still clung to Harry's eyelids, now moist in unconsciousness. He hadn't bothered to change before sliding betwixt the blankets. His hair, just as dark as his make up, but less unearthly, was tousled as usual, and emanated a sense of complete unconcern for any real style, as usual. Now the sky's own costumed face retained only a tinge of daylight, paling more with each second, in uneven complexion.  
  
But a few moments later, he was startled from his slumber, and his green eyes swung open, as if on a hinge, shining nearly chartreuse in the bewitching and wilting dusk. Someone's warm, dry hand was placed firmly over his mouth, causing his eyes to grow ever wider and search in vain, without his glasses, for the owner. Quickly, he scanned the rest of the room. From what he could gather, the beds were still empty; it could not have been very long since he had fallen asleep himself. He thought he could hear the jeering of a crowd still, and the last bit of purple in the sky had morphed to blue and then disappeared. Before he could try and remove the hand by force, another hand slid up his leg, and he felt the pressure of a person sliding onto the foot of his bed. Suddenly, all sense of threat evaporated as quickly as the daylight had. He let out a soft moan, half of relief, and half because of the tantilizingly long fingers winding their way up his leg. It would be one such moan among a precious few more.  
  
He had closed his eyes, but opened them a moment later when he felt the weight of the hand over his face lifted, and strained to get a closer look, still not completely sure of who the intruder was. He began to sit up, to better see, but the hand placed itself on his chest, pressing him down the the bed again. He thought it best to stay put after it had strayed again. He felt the pressure shift on the bed, and then two hands on either side of his legs. Harry took a deep breath, still unsure of the situation, yet hopeful of who this might be. The hand next to Harry's right leg reached over and removed the clothing from Harry's legs, pushing it upwards, and then they bent low to the bare flesh, so close to it that Harry could feel quick, steady breath on his skin, as well as a thick mane of hair brushing the inside of his thigh. Harry took a deep breath, and decided to try and surmise who it was again, bolting upright before the hand could stop him. But before he had time to evaluate anything, the intruder had their own knees on either side of Harry's waist, their legs running down the length of Harry's and past them, and their hands on his shoulders, holding Harry how they wanted him, with infinate strength. Then he felt a soft mane of hair touch his skin once more, this time on his cheek, as they bent low and whispered in his ear:  
  
"If only Draco knew how ungrateful you are. He would object far more to making sure those miscreant students stay clear of here long enough for a brief encounter with you."  
  
Harry's eyes widened, and he missed a breath, while his heart beat on, heardier and faster than ever.  
  
"M-Mr. Malfoy?" he asked tentatively. He was planting doubt in his own mind, because he knew the voice belonged to none other than Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"Shhhhhhh," the melodious voice commanded.  
  
Harry's body had gone rigid with disbelief, and now with complete uncertainty. A similar encounter with Draco's father had only happened once before, and he had thought it would remain once until the end of time. Feeling there was no other viable option but to succumb to Lucius' strength, Harry relaxed his tensed muscles, and tried to loosen his body.  
  
"Mmmm...good boy," whispered Lucius as he felt the notable change in Harry's limbs and torso. He took Harry's wrists in his hand and placed them firmly on either side of Harry's narrow hips, pinning them there with his own hands wrapped tightly around them. With his legs still positioned on either side of Harry's legs, he slid his body downwards, keeping his hands wrapped around Harry's wrists, and forced into the bed. Harry closed his eyes in a sort of uncertain anticipation. He squeezed them shut and let out a deep sigh-like breath, then opened them again, and thought he saw Lucius flash him a sinister grin, but then quickly looked away. When next he closed his eyes, for an elongated blink, he felt the remainder of his clothing torn away completely. He swallowed, sighed, and waited, feeling like he was being punished for something, rather than receiving a more-than- friendly nighttime visit.  
  
"And perhaps you are, boy," he heard Lucius whisper, but sensed it was in playful tone.  
  
Feeling very exposed, and very vulnerable, Harry attempted to subtly move his hands to cover himself, or reach for one of his torn garments, but sensing his mild resistence, Lucius clamped his hands down with brutal force, now with reason to plunge his nails into the flesh of Harry's fragile wrists, making him wince and take a sharp breath. Sensing acutely his own impossibilty, Harry forced himself to relax again. In fact, he wasn't sure why he thought to resist at all. He did want this, after all. He just couldn't believe it was happening, and that Lucius bothered to see him again. And then, quite unexpectedly, he felt that same warm, steady breath on a different part of him, altogether tormenting him. He could all but feel the moisture from the mouth that administered the breath, hanging above him like a tempting fruit, making Harry's toes curl tightly. But then it was gone, and Harry was left painfully deprived and unwillingly stiffened by the sensation.  
  
"Do you want it?" he heard Lucius ask clearly, in his deep, lusterous voice, driving Harry wild at the sound of it. There was a tone of authority in it, and very little actual caring as to what Harry's answer was.  
  
He was at a loss of words, hoping only that certain other visible parts of him could speak on his behalf. Before he thought better of it, he glanced down at himself briefly, as an unintended indicator, and then back up to Lucius' face. He saw his head tilt slightly, and a musing expression take hold of his face. Unexpectedly, his hand went out and came down across Harry's face in a hard slap. Harry winced, gasped slightly, but could not bring hand to assist his stinging flesh, for once again, both of his hands were bound by Lucius' powerful grip. He saw his gleaming eyes and teeth flash in a prurient grin. Then he positioned himself over Harry's small body, on all fours, and took one of Harry's hands, placing it in his lap. Harry felt there exactly what Lucius would feel in Harry's own, if he would stop torturing him.  
  
"Tell me, then," began Lucius, "Would you say that I want it?"  
  
Harry was paralyzed, and Lucius seemed to know. In fact, it seemed he was too impatient to wait for an answer, nor did he expect one. So once again, he slid down the length of Harry, until he was as he had been, and placed his mouth strategically back to where it had been, back to tormenting Harry and his excitement. As his lips grazed the tip, Harry let out a louder moan, dying from this cruel denial. Lucius gouged his nails deeper into Harry's wrists, letting pour fourth the first small rivulet of blood. Harry was determined not to show any sign of true pain. He felt the tip of Lucius' tounge flash out and begin administering quick, wet licks down the length of Harry's most wanting parts. His entire frame squirmed beneath Lucius, begging for more in the guise of struggle and protest. Lucius withdrew his tounge for a moment, seeming to savor the taste of Harry, and the cold of the room clung to the wetness lingering on Harry from Lucius' mouth, all the more tantilizing and tormenting. He felt the sadistic breath on him once more, its effect amplified by the fading wetness. It hovered there for a moment more, before he placed his lips upon Harry's tip, as if in a kiss, and then plunged down forecefully, allowing Harry's own endowments to force open his mouth as he pushed down farther. Harry would have screamed if he could, at the feeling of the wet lips so tightly wrapped around him, were it not for the threat of discovery. All of his muscles underwent dramatic spasms in unison. He was in the back of Lucius' throat now, and it remained so for a moment longer, before he withdrew slowly. For a moment, Harry thought and feared that he might put him through another test of patience, of which he had none now. But the speculation proved wrong, as Lucius plunged forward again with equal tightness and equal vigor, faster this time, and on his way up, letting his tounge slide around Harry, creating a swirling ecstasy. Soon the strokes of his mouth were so fast and tight, that Harry felt himself creeping to the pinnacle of cosummation. Again and again he was pushed into the sultry cavernous mouth, feeling himself and desire come closer, as if it was entirely someone else, and this pleasure would be exposed to her, for her satisfaction, and not his. Suddenly, he felt a sort of rage build up at fully realizing the blood seeping from his wrists, and his lack of choice in all this. And just as suddenly, he realized how those realizations only added to his ultimate pleasure in this, and his frame went tense one more time, in frail objection, as the rest of him let go completely of clearly defined sensations, and gave Lucius what he wanted perhaps more than Harry did, poring forth profusely the precious elixer his body had only just began to produce.  
  
Lucius knew the moment it would come, as he knew Harry did not. He had been waiting in the right place at the right moment, patient as ever for it. He held the thin nectar in his mouth for a moment, sifting his tounge in it, allowing himself to taste it, but not consume it. Then, as he watched Harry's chest heave in erratic breathing, the few beads of perspiration evaporated, and his frame curled up slightly, as a piece of paper singed on the end. Absentmindedly, he released Harry's purpled and bleeding wrists, and rose up to meet Harry's mouth with his own, letting the fluid flow into his mouth as well, while he retained only the remnants, and then placed his hand behind Harry's back, lifting him slightly upwards towards him, his other hand sliding beneath Harry's lithe legs, gathering them in his embrace and pulling Harry onto him, so that he sat upright with Harry cradled in his arms, thier mouths still locked together in a passionate kiss, the succulent liquid interwoven with saliva, from one mouth to another, and finally suffused between the two of them. Their tounges knew intimacy better than their owners, tangled as they were. Harry let his hand rise up and his fingers sifted through Lucius' long, platinum hair, evoking the first and only moan from him. Lucius drew back, at long last, watching a somnolent Harry lick his lips lazily, letting himself relax in Lucius' arms. He swallowed hard, getting a last taste of Harry and then stood up, still holding him in his arms. They locked eyes for a moment, Harry's hazy from post-orgasm torpor, and Lucius' alert. Gazing at his paramour, Harry was somehow oddly content. Lucius placed him carefully back into is bed, where Harry lie still, only his chest rising, and his wounded hands stirring occasionally. He heard the Gryffindor team beginning to file into the common room, and thought that he heard Ron and some of the others venturing up to the dormitory. But luckily, so did Lucius, and when Harry looked back, he had disappeared soundlessly. Harry waited and waited, but no one entered the dormitory. Slowly, his eyes began to flutter shut and his heart slowed down. His wrists were still leaking onto his sheets as slumber took him once more, this time more acceptingly. 


End file.
